


Wind and Stars

by Hexx



Category: Romeo And Juliet - Shakespeare, Romeo et Juliette - Presgurvic
Genre: Adrenaline Junkie, Drunken Shenanigans, I wrote a balcony scene oh my god, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-08
Updated: 2014-03-08
Packaged: 2018-01-14 23:34:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1282777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hexx/pseuds/Hexx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mercutio listens to Queen Mab's voice on the wind and climbs as she tells him to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wind and Stars

**Author's Note:**

> For Tybaltcapuletsbitch on Tumblr, who really liked my headcanon about Mercutio liking to climb up high on things to get an adrenaline high. 
> 
> So yeah, I haven't written fanfiction in years actually but enjoy.

Mercutio had stumbled out of the tavern because he said he needed air. His face was flushed and his mouth stained red. His friends had started to follow him, like they were always following one another, but he shooed them away. With promises of returning in just a moment he took a deep breath, welcoming cold air into his lungs. Mercutio liked cold air and dark nights. They made his skin feel tight over his body, like he could burst out of it and escape to the land of spirits. Lamp lights shone in the distance and beckoned him upwards. The stars looked so inviting and as the wine ran through his body Mercutio wanted to touch them.

There was a tower not far away, the high red roof pressed against the sky. It was only a wall climb away. He’d only be a minute, he decided as he ran across the empty street. He hoisted his body up over the stone barrier with ease. He climbed practically every day of his life, a little wall was no match for Mercutio. Wind blew and stirred his hair and whispered like voices against his ears. Queen Mab must be in favor of his plan for the wind blew him towards the tower wall.

A small balcony was about half way up the rough stone wall which was being choked by ivy vines. Lights shone from behind the glass of the balcony doors and Mercutio risked climbing near it in order to use its light to see. A dull voice in the back of his head tried to tell him something about that door but he ignored it. The thrill of being so high was mingling with the cold in his lungs

If he looked straight up from his place on the wall he couldn’t see the sky. Not without leaning backwards over the ground and craning his neck to see over the roof’s edge. Mercutio twisted slightly on the wall to look at the view over his shoulder. Verona was almost completely dark beneath the night sky and it was beautiful. He saw how high he was from the ground and with a rush of adrenaline that fought with his drunkenness Mercutio couldn’t help but let out a breathy, manic laugh.

He didn’t hear the chair scraping across the floor or the footsteps on the other side of the glass door.  But he recognized the way his name was hissed from the balcony and a new sort of adrenaline coursed through his veins. He swung his head lazily towards the young Capulet who stood in the lamp light, sober as can be and furious as the day he was born.

“Tybalt, Tybalt. I thought I heard a cat yowling. Seems it was only you.” He clung tightly to the wall a few feet to right of Tybalt Capulet’s balcony, safely out of his reach. The other man’s mouth twisted into a scowl that looked rather intimidating in the low light.

“What are you doing on my wall, Mercutio?” Tybalt asked with grit teeth. Mercutio laughed another wild laugh, tilting his head back enough to bare his throat and let his hair trail off his shoulders and down his back. Now he could hear that dull voice a little louder, reminding him that this was the Capulet’s domain. He remembered coercing Romeo and Benvolio into drinking in the tavern bellow because of the thrill of being in Capulet territory and the potential trouble they could get into. He remembered coercing them to that tavern because he recalled Tybalt once slamming his face into a table in that tavern because Mercutio had whispered drunken tales in his ear and he was itching for a fight. At least he had been hours ago when he first started drinking.

Mercutio curled his fingers tightly into the vines to keep from slipping as the muscles in his legs began to ache from being perched on the wall for so long.  “I’m on a mission from the faerie Queen, my Prince of Cats. You should know you cannot deny royalty.” His smile was wide and taunting, but Tybalt did not rise to the bait.

“Get down you idiot. Or else your Uncle will be having his men scrape you off the courtyard floor.” Tybalt sneered, walking towards the rail of the balcony. Mercutio shivered at the idea and felt his blood hum. Then the wind blew at his back, towards the lamp light and the scathing stare of Tybalt. Without hesitation Mercutio began to climb sideways along the wall, towards the other end. The wind was not going to be ignored, no matter who was standing pissly on the balcony.

“I didn’t know you cared.” Mercutio cooed, sparing a glance down to check his footing. Tybalt said something scathing that was missed as the wind blew Mercutio’s hair into his eyes. His footing missed and he slipped, feeling his stomach drop out and his adrenaline rush into his ears

Tybalt’s hands grabbed madly at Mercutio’s arms, wrapping around the biceps and hauling him towards the security of the balcony. Tybalt let go as Mercutio wrapped his arms around the balcony railing, resting his knees between the bars. His feet dangled out in open air as he curled around the unmoving stone. On the other side of the railing, on the balcony proper, Tybalt was twisting his face from horrified to furious.

“What is wrong with you?” He hissed and Mercutio let out more manic laughter. Tybalt bared his teeth and clenched his fists but Mercutio didn’t fear being pushed. Romeo and Benvolio were across the street and he knew Tybalt was aware that they must be nearby. From where he kneeled, clutching his stone lifeline, Mercutio looked quietly up at the Capulet. He looked very much like he always did, but he saw how his clothes had been loosened for comfort in his own home. The wind blew again and stirred their hair.

Laughing, Mercutio straightened his arms, leaning forward on his palms to bait Tybalt further. Just the idea of Tybalt considering pushing him off the balcony was enough to make his adrenaline flow. With all the energy in his system it was a wonder his heart was still beating. As he leaned forward to speak low his weight pitched forward and he remembered he was drunk. His body tipped forward and his face was on a clear trajectory with the balcony floor. With a loud smack and a stinging of skin his face collided with Tybalt’s palm as he felt the other hand curl into his shirt collar. Tybalt dragged Mercutio onto the balcony completely, swearing colorfully as he did. Mercutio shook himself free and rolled onto his back, laughing still and catching sight of the stars once again.

“Ohh…Ohh look at the sky Tybalt, look at the stars tonight.”

“You almost scrape your face off on my balcony in the middle of the night and you want me to look at the fucking stars.” Tybalt scoffed, rubbing his palm against his pants as if Mercutio had contaminated him. Mercutio watched the action, eyes catching on the handle of the dagger hidden in Tybalt's boot.

“I’m usually far more graceful.” Mercutio conceded, his eyes gleaming in the light coming from the door behind Tybalt. Tybalt moved forward and his shadow cut across Mercutio’s  face. He scoffed at the comment and squinted out into the darkness of the courtyard, looking for the Montague’s that he knew were never far from Mercutio’s side.

“Where are they?” He asked, and Mercutio laughed again.

“Am I not satisfying enough, Prince of Cats?” He rolled his head against the floor, his neck cracking loudly in the mostly silent night. He shot his hand out and wrapped it around Tybalt’s calf, his fingers resting just in the bend of his knee. Mercutio let out a soft laugh as Tybalt tensed. “You wish to place more gentlemen on their backs tonig-“

The words were shoved backwards down Mercutio’s throat as Tybalt kicked Mercutio’s hand away and knelt down, slamming his hand onto the exposed throat and pressing. Mercutio gagged and managed a manic laughter to push through his wild smile.  Tybalt’s fingers twitch and grip tighter as he’s laughed at and this too is familiar. Mercutio recognizes this sensation as easily and clearly as he recognizes the wind’s orders. When he cannot make more laughter he settles on a contented smirk and stares up into Tybalt’s snarling, shadowed face.

They are still, Mercutio sucking air through his nose and Tybalt seething through his teeth. Then a cold breeze rustles Tybalt’s hair and Mercutio slowly snakes his hand up Tybalt’s arm, starting at the wrist pressed into the side of his neck. Like his skin was flame, Tybalt retreated. He knelt on the balls of his feet a space away from Mercutio who pushed himself up onto his elbows and took in a deep breath of air.

“You do that often?” Tybalt asked softly, trying not to sound like he was at a loss for things to say. Mercutio does not ask him what he means because he knows.

“I have often greeted you from rooftops, Prince of Cats, how did you think I got up there?”

“Sober” Tybalt said with a snort. Mercutio had to laugh at that because it was true. “Why are you climbing my wall in the dead of night?”

“Would you believe it was to see you?” Mercutio asked, tilting his head and smiling kindly while his tone dripped sarcasm and mockery. Tybalt shoved the other man hard in the shoulder as he stood again. Mercutio lay on the ground again and laughed, louder this time then he had since he climbed over the wall. He saw the way Tybalt froze as the sound carried in the dark. He sighed lightly as he stared straight up into the sky. Whispering so that he was sure only Tybalt heard he said, “I wanted to touch the stars.”

“That is impossible.” Tybalt said with a guarded tone that Mercutio would have been curious about had he been sober enough to decode it. To decipher the begrudging tone of someone who has wished the same thing and failed. A moment more of silence passed and then, “You need to leave.”

“I do indeed, Romeo and Benvolio will be taking to the streets soon and what will they thing when they look for me and find me here?” Mercutio said conversationally but he knew how serious that idea was. Tonight was, for once, not a night where he wanted to fight and in the drunken state he knew his friends to be in, he did not count their odds as good. “Will you escort me down to the door, my Prince?”

Tybalt scoffed at him again. “And explain to my Uncle how you got here? No, you will go down the way you came up.” But even as he said it he turned and walked back into his room. Mercutio got up and made to follow him but Tybalt had returned, blocking the door with a handmade rope ladder in hand.

“What’s this?” Mercutio asked, ignoring the wind that blew at his back. He felt his feet dig firmly into the ground to keep from stepping closer to Tybalt.

“Those vines are not always as strong as they are now, and so I learned quickly that if I wanted to come and go as I pleased I needed my own path.” Tybalt shouldered past Mercutio, who stumbled on his feet and watched as the ladder was secured to the balcony railing and thrown over the side. There was a soft clatter as the bottom hit the ground far below.

Mercutio slid his body unnecessarily close to Tybalt’s as he passed him, throwing one leg over the railing while he gripped at Tybalt’s shoulder to keep from plummeting. Tybalt had baulked slightly at first but kept himself still while Mercutio got adjusted on the ladder. Mercutio felt the wind still pushing at his back while he clung to the ladder, and it rocked him like a swing. He should have found this terrifying but it just stirred the adrenaline in his system that had started to settle in his time on the balcony. He grinned up at Tybalt who just looked serious.

They both heard his name being called in a drunken chorus across the street and Mercutio spared a glance back towards the tavern. He saw the shadowed figures of his friends moving in the street, searching for him in a tight little group. They could not see him from this distance, but they would surely see him climbing back over the wall. Mercutio looked back at Tybalt and saw that the other man knew it as well.

With a sly smile and quick fingers Mercutio’s hand darted between the bars of the balcony and pulled the dagger from Tybalt’s boot. The Capulet started to protest but could do little as Mercutio descended the swinging ladder with much more ease then should have been allowed. Once on the ground Mercutio looked up once more at Tybalt, who was leaning on his palms to see that he had made it down alive. With a condescending smile Mercutio flattened his palm to his mouth and blew Tybalt a kiss. Tybalt’s dark form recoiled as if he could actually avoid the kiss the wind blew upwards and Mercutio laughed loudly.

“Mercutio!” Benvolio’s voice called from the other side of the wall. “Mercutio!”

Without another hesitation, Mercutio turned and fled, scaling the wall and landing on the ground amidst his friends. Tybalt’s dagger gripped tight in his hand. He boasted about how he lifted it from the unnoticing Tybalt, and how he could have slit the Prince of Cat’s throat if he had wanted to. He led his friends away from the Capulet house and into safer streets.

Romeo told him how dangerous that was, and Benvolio reminded him that Tybalt would come looking for it the next day. The wind blew violently in their faces and Mercutio’s laugh carried eerily through Verona. God he hoped he would.


End file.
